Flying Solo

From two to one

I've recently rented a room in the picture-perfect city of Antigua from a diminutive Guatemalan abuela who provides three hearty meals per day and affectionately refers to me as chica. My days are spent taking Spanish lessons, practicing my poor Spanish and fervently devouring books from the only second-hand book store in town. Because as of exactly two weeks ago, our cosy traveling party of two became an even cosier party of one... and I shall now be continuing this journey solo.

In the wake of our leisurely fortnight in Cuba my partner and I returned to Mexico, taking refuge from the touristy Yucatan Peninsula on the bohemian island of Holbox. We secured a fantastic deal on a rustic wooden bungalow (thanks to the impending low season) and for two weeks did little more than swing in hammocks, eat guacamole and fish tacos and drink cervezas on the beach at sunset. Yet as relaxing as it was, my partner found he couldn't shake his growing restlessness and impassivity for traveling. And as the week drew to a close, we both knew something had to change.